Chapter 32 #2
“I don’t have feelings. I never have.” That’s my biggest strength that, until Tommy, I never saw any drawbacks to.
I can only hope that I’m still enough for him, that I’ll still pass this test. When he wiggles some more–testing me, always testing me, giving me so many chances to pass like the good boy he is–I bite hard on his shoulder, until he cries out from it.
Between us, his dick bucks in his briefs, tenting the material and bulging through his open zipper.
I lick across the teeth marks I left behind, soothing the sting.
“I can’t tell you how I feel, but I can prove whatever you want. You want me to show you how serious I am? You need more proof? I’ll show you again, and again, and again.”
“Young-gi, I–” He swallows hard. “I–” he trails off, leaving something left unsaid. Finally, he shakes his head. “You have feelings.”
“Maybe. But I don’t know what they are. They bleed together. It amounts to the same thing.”
Thunder crashes, but everything outside of the belltower, outside of us, is meaningless to me. I don’t care about the spray brought in by the wind or the cold. With him in my hands, I’ll never feel the chill.
“I’m not worth this,” he whispers, hoarse and pained.
“You’re worth so much more,” I grate out.
I strike again with my teeth, his other shoulder this time.
He yelps and struggles in my hold, so I change my grip on him, pin his hips to the brick with my hands and put my teeth on his neck.
I leave another mark there to the sound of his gasping cuss words.
He grips my shoulders, his wet fingers slipping on my skin, digging into my muscles, leaving his own marks.
One second he’s pushing me away, the next he’s trying to hold me closer, scratching lines on my back in response to the multitude of teeth-shaped bruises I’m leaving on his shoulders and neck.
“Oh fuck, ouch,” he hisses when I leave a particularly deep one, and I kiss it softly in apology.
Then I fall to my knees and yank his pants down with me.
I bite his hip, rip one of his legs out of his soaking pants and lift it up onto my shoulder to sink my teeth into his thigh.
His gasp for that one is high-pitched and needy, his fingers tangling in my hair, his eyes wide.
“Listen to me,” I say, my voice so rough I barely recognize it. “I need you.”
“No one needs this mess–ouch! Fucker,” he complains when I bite his thigh again.
“I need you, Tommy,” I repeat. “I have no other words. I need you. Even that word isn’t enough, not truly. I more than need you. I more than want you. I-I don’t know how else to say it.”
My chest burns, my throat burns–frustration, helplessness. Feelings I never thought I’d be able to name. They taste bitter.
“I don’t know how to say it,” I repeat.
“I love you,” he says hoarsely, the words slipping out of him.
“I love you,” I repeat, thinking at first that he’s telling me the words I should be using, coaching me through it. But the way his eyes widen, his expression blown open into something fearful, makes me realize–
“You love me,” I say, mystified.
“You–you love… me too?” He says back, unsure and insecure.
“I… I do,” I agree thoughtfully. “I must. There’s no other feeling this could be, is there? I need you. I have to have you. I want you more than anyone else. I love you.”
And now that I’ve named it, that burning, bitter taste disappears. How thrilling, how exciting is this? Electricity sizzles from my skin to my bones, static races across my nerve endings. I love him. I love him.
And he loves me.
I bite his thigh again, hard enough to leave a mark. He groans, but takes it, panting harshly.
“P-prove it,” he dares, shaky and spooked, like he’ll run away now if I don’t make him believe it.
I tear his clothes off, turn him around, and sink my teeth into the meaty part of his ass. He hisses at the ache, cussing but holding still because this is exactly what he wants.
“Proof is something I can do.”
“Are you gonna bite me instead of spank me?” he teases weakly, his fingers clawing at the brick as he leans forward, giving me what I want.
“Maybe a little. You look good with my teeth on you.” My fingers trace the imprint left behind on his ass, and my dick gets hard because ‘good’ is not nearly enough to describe how sexy he looks with my mark on his skin.
Good enough that I don’t think I can wait.
I stand, running my hands up his sides, sending shivers dancing down his spine.
He’s so wild, so untamed and submissive at the same time.
Knuckles bloody, but naked in a storm because I want him to be.
I spin him, lean him back against the brick, grip his chin in my hand and loom over him.
“I want to fuck you.” The words come out before I can stop them. “I need to fuck you, right now.”
“Holy shit,” he whispers. “Why is this so hot? Why is everything you do so hot?”
I pause, and something inside my chest loosens, relaxes. I didn’t realize I was expecting rejection until I got acceptance.
“So,” I murmur. “You–” I clear my throat, unfamiliar with the physical sensations of whatever emotion makes me feel like I’m choking. “Liked it?”
“Hm?” He blinks up at me, nuzzling his cheek into my palm. His expression clears as he understands, and then he does the last thing I expect. He bursts into a bout of high-pitched laughter and grabs my ripped-open shirtfront to keep me close.
“You’re asking if I liked you fucking me so good I nearly blacked out?” he checks. “If I liked it when you made me cum until I cried? You want to know if I liked that?”
I grip his chin in my fingers and match his giggles with a huff of amusement, the thunder drowning out the sound. “It’s a yes or no question, Tommy.”
“Yes, Daddy,” he whispers hoarsely. “I-I liked it. Did…did you?”
“Yeah,” I agree. “More than anything.”
Stars shine in his dark eyes. A galaxy pointed right at me. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”
“When do I ever just say anything?”
“Good point.”
I smile and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He sighs into it, melts against the wall. “Good boy.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out the packet of lube and the condom I’ve been carrying since he let me fuck him the first time. I wanted to be prepared if he ever needed me again. Good thing, too, because it turns out that this time, I’m the one in need.
“Be a good boy and hold still while I put on a condom.”
“What if I don’t?” He moves like he’s going to try and slip away, so I bite his shoulder again, holding him in place.
He pants, cusses, his breath hot in the chilly air, our voices barely audible through the storm.
His body writhes against mine as I unbutton my pants, and the press of his hard cock against mine is incendiary.
“Oh fuck, primal play,” he breathes while I glove up and slick my cock with lube. “Fuck yeah.”
But this isn’t play. It’s not play at all.
I pull one of his legs over my elbow, spreading him open and he leans back against the wall hard, off-balance. He’s immobile like this, at my mercy, and I take a second to press my slick fingers inside him, feeling how tight he is, preparing him for me.
“I’m not playing,” I rasp near his ear, nuzzling his damp skin, needing to be closer. “I’m fucking serious about you, Tommy.”
“Oh fuck, give me more,” he hits his fist against the wall and presses down onto my fingers, so I line up my dick and push inside him, going deeper and deeper as he shouts and adjusts to me, not stopping until he’s mine.
“I need you,” I repeat, starting a rough, frenzied pace. I can’t do anything else. One hand drifts to the shallow cut along his ribs and I get even more punishing. “I’m keeping you.”
“Please!” he shouts, and I don’t know what he’s begging for.
It could be for me to give him more pleasure, or for me to keep him.
Either way, he’ll get it. I suck a hickey onto his neck, then press my fingers against his throat while kissing him breathless, controlling the blood flow so he can let go of his anxiety and his noisy thoughts.
I want to silence all those impulsive voices, those lies.
I want to fuck him so good he finds peace.
Want to make him believe me.
Make him mean it when he says he loves me.
Did he mean it?
Tommy pulls his mouth away, his moan frustrated and pained. He scrapes his fingers down my back and peers at me through eyes slitted nearly shut. “Just cum,” he pants. “I don’t–I can’t–I just want you to. Don’t worry about mine.”
I freeze, thinking fast. It’s true that I could simulate the experience of being high if I choke him long enough, restrict his blood enough. But that Band-Aid can’t be used every time. And even with it, he needs more. More than just being high. He needs–
He lets out a protesting mewl when I pull out of him abruptly, stumbling as I let his leg down from the crook of my elbow.
“Wait, I–” He grabs my arm, sounding anxious. But I’m not leaving him, and I hate that he’s still in such an insecure headspace, still feeling so chaotic inside, that he thought I was. I slide my arms around him, kiss him because I can’t help myself, and drag him into the rain.
He sucks in a gasp at the cold, and I feel the storm swallow us whole.
No longer inside the bell tower’s shelter, we’re in the middle of it all.
Lightning flashes, turning the rivulets of rain on Tommy’s dark skin into silver veins.
The noise is everything, everywhere. The rain soaks the clothes hanging from me in seconds, and I drag Tommy with me to the other side of the bell tower’s wall.
I spin him around, his back to my front, but don’t push him against the wall. I press my own hand against it, bracing it there over his shoulder, keeping him close to me with my other hand pressed against his chest and gripping his throat.